


Break My Heart and Start Again

by lakehymn



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakehymn/pseuds/lakehymn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordie shoots Jamie a questioning look, all furrowed brow and pronounced frown.</p>
<p>“I got her number,” Jamie lies, avoiding Jordie’s eyes. “We’re going to catch up later.”</p>
<p>“Nice!” Tyler says. “And not very surprising, considering the shirt you’re wearing.” He playfully squeezes Jamie’s bicep. “I didn’t realize I got tickets to see the gun show.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break My Heart and Start Again

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [infinituity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/infinituity) for looking this over for me and also for not making fun of me when I was like, "how about a fic where Tyler says he doesn't want gay guys hitting on him and then proceeds to shamelessly hit on Jamie." On that note, warning for some mild homophobia and an unintended coming out.
> 
> UPDATE: Since writing this fic, I've kind of changed my mind about how I see their dynamic and about how I would characterize Tyler in particular, and I'm actually a little embarrassed about being so incorrect about something. I see the truth now, which is that Tyler Seguin is pretty brazen about how much he likes dick. I just wanted to acknowledge that for you guys. I hope you enjoy the fic anyway.

Jamie leans back on Tyler’s couch and tries to wiggle his toes; he doesn’t want to move, but he does want to make sure he still has feeling in his feet after Marshall has been lying on top of them for the last half an hour. Not that it matters, considering Jamie isn’t even sure when he’ll actually be leaving. 

He flips idly through Tyler’s premium channels, not really looking for anything in particular. The volume is turned down low, with Tyler providing the background soundtrack: “Yeah. No. Come on, man, don’t be stupid. Okay. You sure?”

He’s pacing back and forth on the rug behind the couch, stopping only when whoever is on the other end of the line says something Tyler finds particularly shocking (“Bro, are you shitting me? You have got to be shitting me. Seriously? No way!”), before then resuming his pacing. Tyler’s voice grows louder and softer at random intervals as he goes from one end of the room to the other—closer to Jamie, then farther away, then back again.

He’s been at it for about twenty minutes now. The only reason why Jamie hasn’t gone home yet is because, after Tyler answered his phone, he’d told Jamie, “Hang on, I need to take this. It won’t be too long, though. Promise.” 

Well, there’s that, and there’s the fact that every so often when Tyler walks past, he’ll ruffle Jamie’s hair, absentmindedly running his fingers through the short locks and messing them up as much as possible in a few swift movements.

“Sure, sounds good,” Tyler says, then: “Dude, you seem tense.”

Jamie finally settles on TLC and the Cake Boss marathon it’s playing—it was either that or Bridezillas. At some point Tyler had fallen silent, and now Jamie can actually hear the engaged couple’s description of the opulent wedding cake they want. Jamie can also make out Tyler in his peripheral vision, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he finds Tyler staring at him, eyebrows raised and cell phone nowhere in sight.

“What?” Jamie asks, blinking in surprise.

“I said, you seem tense,” Tyler replies. “Feeling sore?”

“Oh. I guess?” Jamie says. “I mean, a little. I took a pretty bad hit yesterday.”

“Yeah, dude, it looked bad,” Tyler says, nodding. “No worries, though—I got you covered. Turn back around.”

“Uh, okay.”

Then Jamie feels Tyler’s hands on his shoulders, Tyler’s fingers pushing into his muscles and making slow, circular motions through Jamie’s T-shirt. A sharp, momentary pain runs through Jamie’s back, and Jamie takes a quick breath between clenched teeth. After the pain fades, though, Jamie’s shoulders feel much looser than before, and he finds himself leaning into Tyler’s touch. 

“You’re wound up so tight, man. How are you feeling?” Tyler asks.

“Not great,” Jamie admits, before adding, “But better now.”

“Good,” Tyler responds, briefly resting a hand on the back of Jamie’s neck before walking around the couch to sit next to him.

“Thanks,” Jamie says, awkwardly belated, after they’ve been sitting in silence for a few moments.

“It’s not a problem,” Tyler says. He reaches down to scratch behind Marshall’s ears, and then he says, “By the way, you should come to a dog training class with me.”

“Is Marshall doing something wrong?”

“Nah, I just think it’d be fun to teach him and Cash some tricks,” Tyler explains.

“Oh, cool,” Jamie says. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

After that, Jamie turns his attention back to the TV. He hasn’t really been following all the drama going on in the episode so far, but it’s easy enough to settle in with Tyler.

Once the show goes to a commercial break, Tyler comments, “Why is this guy’s family so awful? Like, just let the man bake in peace. The cake would turn out so much better.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Jamie replies, laughing. “Nothing could make that cake better.” 

“What, you don’t like it? A nine-tier cake isn’t what you envision for your future wedding?” Tyler asks, grin wide and obnoxious.

“Uh, no,” Jamie responds emphatically. 

Tyler leans forward and lets out the laughter he’d clearly been trying to hold in.

“Classic,” he says nonsensically, between giggles.

Once he calms down, Tyler shifts sideways on the couch, inching closer to Jamie until their thighs are pressed together. He would barely have to move to be in Jamie’s lap. 

Jamie takes a deep breath and stretches his arm over the top of the couch, his hand briefly fluttering around the nape of Tyler’s neck, brushing the skin but never quite settling down. Jamie could easily go from barely-there touches to rubbing smooth, slow circles on Tyler’s skin, the way Tyler had done for him earlier. 

He doesn’t. 

*

Sometime during the late afternoon on an off day after a disheartening loss against the Leafs, Jamie gets a text message from Tyler: _Barhopping tonite. You me and jordie. meet @ my house!!_

Jamie doesn’t bother sending a response, just sighs heavily and goes to his closet to find an appropriate outfit, since the boxers and holey tee he’s been wearing all day probably aren’t going to cut it. By the time afternoon fades into evening, he’s spent more time than he’d care to admit just milling around his house, but he’s also thrown on a pair of jeans and a decently stylish shirt.

Jamie makes the short walk over to Tyler’s place and lets himself in, where he finds Tyler and Jordie already arguing about which bars they should hit tonight.

“Come on, I have it all planned out already,” Tyler says. “Plus I have excellent taste in bars. Jamie trusts me, don’t you, Jamie?”

Both Tyler and Jordie turn to stare at him.

“No comment,” Jamie says immediately.

Eventually Jordie relents, and they get a cab to one of Tyler’s favorite places. The long line out front doesn’t dissuade Tyler at all.

When they finally get past the entrance, Tyler drags Jamie off in one direction and shoos Jordie away in another, saying, “You go find us a table. Jamie can fight through the crowd, and then I’ll get the bartender’s attention.”

Jamie shrugs at Jordie and then starts shouldering his way through all the people presumably gathered around the haggard bartender. He’s flattening peanut shells underneath his shoes with each step he takes, but there’s no helping it—they’re littered all over the floor—and anyway, no one seems to mind. He can hear what seems like a hundred different conversations going on at once, but no distinct words. The bar is a blur of noise and bodies, the type of place where a person has to yell to be heard.

Tyler follows close behind, his grip tight around Jamie’s wrist, as if he’s worried about getting lost or left behind. He lets go when they get to the front of the crowd, but Jamie can still feel the warmth of where his hand had been.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Tyler calls to the bartender, and when he has her attention, continues with, “Any recommendations tonight?”

She smiles at Tyler, his grin clearly as infectious as always, and says, “That depends.”

“On?” Tyler asks dutifully, packing more insinuations into a single word than Jamie had previously thought possible. 

“On whether or not you introduce me to your friend,” she replies, looking Jamie over and tucking a strand of her short, pastel-dyed hair behind her ear.

If anything, Tyler’s grin grows wider.

“His name is Jamie,” he says, clapping Jamie on the shoulders. Then he adds in a stage whisper, “He’s really shy.”

“Uh,” Jamie manages, sprung to life by Tyler elbowing him in the ribs. “Hi.”

“Hi,” the bartender says, eyes twinkling. “I’m Amber.”

“Jamie,” Jamie says.

“So I’ve heard,” Amber responds, amusement coloring her tone.

Her smile hasn’t dimmed at all. Jamie tries to glance over at Tyler, but finds that the spot where Tyler had once been standing is now empty.

“Can I just get three beers? Whatever you like best,” Jamie says, trying to sound apologetic. “I need to get back,” he adds, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in a random direction.

“Of course,” Amber replies, nodding.

She doesn’t sound upset, though. If anything, she actually sounds a little like she’s humoring him, which Jamie honestly prefers.

He grabs the three glasses, one in one hand and the other two by the rims between pinched fingers, and goes in search of Tyler and Jordie. They’ve found a cozy table in the back, out of the way of all the lights and people. Jamie sets the drinks down and slides into the booth next to Tyler, across from Jordie.

“What are you doing here?” Tyler asks incredulously. “That bartender was super into you!”

“Really?” Jordie says, sounding genuinely interested.

Jamie tries to shake his head subtly enough for Tyler not to notice, but Jordie doesn’t seem to notice either.

“Yeah! Plus she was way hot,” Tyler raves. 

Jordie shoots Jamie a questioning look, all furrowed brow and pronounced frown.

“I got her number,” Jamie lies, avoiding Jordie’s eyes. “We’re going to catch up later.”

“Nice!” Tyler says. “And not very surprising, considering the shirt you’re wearing.” He playfully squeezes Jamie’s bicep. “I didn’t realize I got tickets to see the gun show.” 

“Uh, right. Thanks,” Jamie mumbles, before taking a huge gulp of his beer.

Jordie, thankfully, doesn’t say anything in response to that.

“Next bar?” he asks, once they’ve all reached the bottoms of their glasses.

Jamie nods enthusiastically.

They walk the few blocks to the next bar, where Jordie promptly sends Tyler to get the drinks before pulling Jamie aside.

“You haven’t come out to him?” Jordie says, as soon as Tyler is out of sight. “The media is one thing, but I thought you wanted to be honest with your best friend.”

If nothing else, at least Jordie’s tone is puzzled instead of accusatory.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I ever want to tell him,” Jamie admits.

“What’s the deal?”

Jamie groans and hides his face in his hands.

*

The deal is this:

Shortly after Tyler moved to Dallas—before he and Jamie had become as close as they are now, but after they started hanging out regularly—Jamie took Tyler to one of the neighborhood’s most popular bars. At that point he’d already decided to forgive and forget everything Tyler had said and done before he made the official move to Dallas. That was Old Tyler.

Almost immediately after sitting down at an empty table and glancing at the laminated menu of signature drinks, Tyler’s head snapped back up to Jamie, and he exclaimed, “Let’s do shots!”

Despite his clear excitement, he didn’t even look back down at the menu until Jamie laughed and nodded. This was New Tyler.

“What are you getting?” Jamie asked.

“To start with? I’m trying to decide between the peanut butter and jelly and the dreamsicle. You?” 

“Cotton candy,” Jamie replied, looking at the list of drop shots.

It was cotton candy vodka dropped in an energy drink, the addition of which Jamie seriously needed to be able to keep up with Tyler; without it, he’d probably be drained and ready to head home in less than an hour. 

Tyler got up to get the first round and then the second and then the third, so out of fairness, Jamie felt compelled to get the fourth, fifth, and sixth rounds. By then they’d gone through almost all the shots on the menu, and Tyler figured since they were already so close, they “might as well try them all.”

“Here, this one’s for you,” Tyler said, shoving a glass across the table to Jamie.

Tyler looked flushed and giddy in a way that made Jamie somewhat suspicious, like he was about to be on the wrong end of a prank, but he grabbed the glass and downed it anyway.

“That was good,” he remarked afterwards.

“It’s called golden apple,” Tyler explained, biting his bottom lip impishly. “I gave it to you because you’re the fairest one of all! Get it? Get it, Jamie?”

Jamie laughed so hard he had to set his head on the table to keep himself steady.

“You should have told me you were such a lightweight,” Jamie chided, once he collected himself.

“No I’m not!” Tyler tried to say. 

The way he unnecessarily lengthened the ‘O’ in the word ‘no’ and slurred the ‘I’m not’ into one syllable begged to differ.

“Whatever you say, Seggy,” Jamie said. “I need to go take a piss. I’ll be right back.” 

He was only gone two minutes, maybe even less, but when he emerged from the bathroom, some guy he didn’t recognize was sitting in his seat. Jamie saw the guy rub a hand over the five o’clock shadow on his jaw—a nervous gesture Jamie recognized, but had only ever done over much less impressive stubble. 

As he neared the table, Jamie saw Tyler shake his head emphatically at something the guy was saying. The rock ‘n’ roll blaring from the bar’s speakers was loud enough to drown out their conversation, even though Jamie was just a few feet away. Whatever Tyler responded with, though, caused the guy to quickly stand up and leave.

“What was that about?” Jamie asked, reclaiming his seat. 

“He was trying to ask me out,” Tyler answered. The combination of his slurred speech and pursed lips made him seem incredibly childish somehow. “I don’t have a problem with gay guys or anything like that. I just don’t want them hitting on me, you know? I don’t fuckin’ like that shit.”

“Right, yeah,” Jamie said, suddenly feeling his stomach twist into knots. “I mean, me too.”

Tyler nodded understandingly, like Jamie’s agreement was a given.

*

Jordie doesn’t say anything about any of that until later, after he’s followed Jamie out of the cab and cornered him in his own house.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he tells Jamie. “I’m always on your side, no matter what.”

“I know,” Jamie says, taking a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Jordie nods once, decisively, before leaving.

*

“Hey, Segs, how’d your date go the other night?” Demers asks, as they’re all getting ready for practice.

Before he’s even consciously decided to do it, Jamie has whipped his head around to the other side of the locker room to look at Tyler. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Jamie about a date.

Tyler doesn’t seem to notice the way Jamie is staring at him, which is fortunate because Jamie doesn’t actually want Tyler seeing the ridiculous facial expression he knows he must be making right now.

“It was awesome!” Tyler says. “We had a great time together.”

He stresses the word ‘great’ and looks about two seconds away from making finger guns at Jason. Jamie turns back to his own stall and doesn’t look at Tyler again until they’re out on the ice.

Once they start the drills, Tyler gives Jamie a playful shove, which Jamie has to return for the sake of his honor. It escalates from there, and after that, it becomes easier for Jamie to ignore the fact that he feels his stomach dropping like he’s at the top of a roller coaster—incidentally, another feeling he only knows because of Tyler. 

After practice ends, Jamie intends to go straight home to crash on his couch and watch shitty reality TV all day, by himself, but Tyler catches him on his way out to the parking lot. 

“Hey, how about a movie at yours later?” Tyler asks.

“I don’t know. I’m,” Jamie starts, and then stops when he realizes he can’t think of a good enough reason to say no. He shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

Tyler’s answering smile almost makes it worth it.

He doesn’t specify a time, but he arrives at Jamie’s house later that afternoon, bursting through the door without even pausing to knock.

As a show of good faith, Jamie lets Tyler choose the movie. The DVD collection may reside in Jamie’s house, but at least half the movies don’t actually belong to him, and he’s not entirely sure how they got there. Jamie sits back and watches as Tyler roots through the DVDs for a while, before he finally finds something he seems to deem acceptable.

The previews begin playing, but Tyler makes no move to skip them like he usually does. Jamie looks over and sees Tyler staring intently down at his phone, the remote for the DVD player lying untouched on the couch cushion next to him. 

“What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Huh?” Tyler looks up. “Oh.” He sighs. “It’s just… Naomi, the girl I hooked up with a couple days ago, is texting me, and I wouldn’t mind hooking up again, but I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay,” Jamie says slowly. “What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know if I made it good for her, man,” Tyler confesses. “I mean, I thought it was good, but she really wanted me to talk dirty for her. And don’t get me wrong, I definitely tried. I just don’t think I was any good at it.” 

“Wow. That’s, uh.” Jamie grapples with his emotions for a moment before continuing, “That’s quite the problem.” 

“I know!”

“Maybe you should practice,” Jamie says. 

He means it as a generic piece of advice—a little tongue-in-cheek, even—but Tyler’s eyes light up.

“I should totally practice!” he exclaims. “You have to help me.”

“What?” Jamie stammers. “How?”

“Tell me whether I’m doing okay or if I sound dumb or something,” Tyler says.

“You don’t need me for that,” Jamie says. “Just look at yourself in a mirror and do it.”

“Come on, I need feedback,” Tyler wheedles. “Please?”

Jamie sighs heavily. “Fine, I’ll help,” he says. “But you owe me.”

Tyler cheers like getting Jamie to agree to something for him is a real accomplishment, instead of a matter of course. Then he shifts on the sectional so he’s sitting cross-legged, completely facing Jamie. Jamie turns halfway towards him.

“How should I start?” Tyler asks.

“How should I know?” Jamie shoots back.

“Work with me here. If you were a girl, how would you want me to start?”

Jamie swallows. “If I were a girl,” he echoes.

“Yeah,” Tyler says.

“I guess, um, I would want you to start by talking about how attracted you are to me,” Jamie suggests, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Like, why you want to have sex. With me. Hypothetically.”

“That makes sense,” Tyler says, nodding thoughtfully. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?” Jamie says.

“I can’t do this with you looking at me, dude,” Tyler explains.

“Jesus Christ,” Jamie mutters, but he closes his eyes.

“Okay,” Tyler says. Jamie hears him take a deep breath. “You are so fucking hot. Like, unbelievably hot. I just love looking at you. And oh man, when I see your thighs, all I can think about is running my hands up them and spreading your legs wide.” Then Tyler’s hand is on Jamie’s knee, and Jamie can’t help starting in surprise. “Is this weird?”

“It’s,” Jamie starts, but then he pauses, not sure what it is; eventually he settles on, “It’s fine. You’re doing a good job.” He tries to keep his tone balanced on the halfway point between indifferent and overinvested, hopefully landing somewhere around politely detached, as he adds, “Keep going.”

“Awesome,” Tyler replies, moving his hand away. “Now I want to shove you against a wall and kiss every single part of you, and then I want to fuck you. I don’t want to come until I’m inside you.”

“Whoa,” Jamie says.

He opens his eyes to find Tyler watching him intently. 

“Was that okay?” Tyler asks.

“Yeah,” Jamie manages. His stomach flares white hot, and his skin feels like it’s buzzing all over. He needs something to focus on other than how hard his dick is getting. “I don’t think you actually need the practice,” he continues, tongue feeling weird and heavy in his mouth.

“Really? Cool. I guess it’s just one of those things that’s more difficult under pressure,” Tyler says, shrugging.

“Sure,” Jamie replies.

“Well, thanks for your help, dude,” Tyler says. “I’ll totally return the favor or whatever when you go on a date with that hot bartender.”

He pats Jamie companionably on his knee and turns back to the TV, which Jamie belatedly realizes has been playing the menu screen music on a loop. Tyler presses the play button without another word.

Jamie spends the entire movie trying to focus on the plot instead of thinking about how he’s going to jack off furiously as soon as Tyler leaves, but by the time the credits roll, he’s not entirely sure what movie he just watched.

At practice a couple days later, Tyler tells Jamie, “Naomi was super into it, bro! Thanks again,” and puts his hand up for a high five.

Jamie, regrettably, high fives him. 

*

Jamie is at the supermarket, contemplating the cereal aisle, when it occurs to him that he should really start getting out of the house more often, at least for something besides grocery shopping, playing hockey, or hanging out with Tyler.

Specifically, it occurs to him when Jordie calls to say he’s going to be skipping out on dinner at Jamie’s that evening. It turns out Jordie’s girlfriend was able to move a few things around and will be free for a date night after all.

Since the Stars are at the end of a three-game homestand and have a couple days off, most of the other guys are taking advantage of the break by spending some time with their families or girlfriends before they have to leave for their road trip. And Jamie is grocery shopping.

He ends the call with Jordie and grabs a cereal box at random, all but throwing it in his cart. By the time he finishes with the self-service checkout and is on his way home, he has a plan.

He texts Jordie, _Do you know anything about online dating_ , and doesn’t have to wait long for a response. His cell phone starts ringing almost immediately.

“Are you serious?” is how Jordie greets him.

“Yeah,” Jamie says.

“Do you want me to make a profile for you?” Jordie asks.

He maybe sounds a little too eager, but Jamie ignores that.

“Please,” he answers, relieved.

“Okay, take a shirtless picture of yourself and text it to me,” Jordie orders. Then he pauses. “But don’t show anything that someone could use to identify you.”

“This might be a terrible idea,” Jamie says.

He does it anyway.

The lighting in the bathroom isn’t the best, and taking a mirror selfie isn’t the most sophisticated way of doing this, but Jamie still hikes his shirt up and snaps the picture. His white shirt has long sleeves that easily cover his tattoos, but it’s still thin enough to see through a little, at least at his chest where he hasn’t quite pulled it all the way up. The photo actually ends up looking pretty good. 

Even so, Jamie has a hard time imagining other people looking at this and then deciding to meet him, but he sends it to Jordie anyway.

_Not bad_ , Jordie texts back.

He doesn’t bring it up again until almost a week later, when they’re two hours into their flight back to Dallas. Jordie makes his way down the aisle of the plane and flops down into the empty seat next to Jamie.

He elbows Jamie in the ribs and says, “Give me your phone.”

Jamie hands it over without protest, and Jordie messes with it for a few minutes before holding it up so Jamie can see the screen. 

“What am I looking at?” Jamie asks, staring at the rows of photos that are displayed.

“These are guys who are interested in you,” Jordie tells him. “I went ahead and logged into your profile for you.”

“Do you think it’s okay? That they don’t really know me, I mean,” Jamie says, suddenly worried that this plan really is terrible. “I didn’t even write anything. You did.”

“Don’t worry,” Jordie says, somewhat exasperated. “I think I know you well enough to fill out some basic questions about your interests.” He gestures to the list of profiles onscreen. “These dudes like the same things you like, and they like your picture. That should be good enough.” 

“What if someone recognizes me and tells people?” Jamie asks, worrying his bottom lip.

“Be discreet. If it comes to that, he has no proof, and you can just deny it,” Jordie suggests. “Should be simple enough, right?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jamie says, gearing himself up again. “You’re right.”

He grabs the phone and takes a moment to look through all the profiles, eventually settling on the one photo that had caught his attention initially: it’s of a guy with muscular, tattooed arms holding a full-grown sheltie up next to his face, close enough that the dog is snuggling up against the guy’s short, blond beard. The name ‘Chase’ is listed underneath the picture.

“Him?” Jordie asks, peering over Jamie’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

Jordie gives him a long look, but all he says is, “Now just message him saying you want to meet. We have this Friday free.”

*

On Thursday, Jamie gives Tyler a ride back to his place. They occasionally carpool to morning skate together because, as Tyler said, “It’s better for the environment or whatever.”

Occupied by thoughts of his date tomorrow night, Jamie drums his fingers restlessly against the steering wheel. What if he embarrasses himself? What if Chase ends up not liking him? What if Chase is actually just catfishing him?

But before Jamie can start freaking out too much, Tyler interrupts his thoughts.

“Are you ready for doggie training camp tomorrow?” he asks excitedly. “We’re gonna be like Marshall and Cash’s parents! It’ll be so great.”

“Oh,” Jamie says. “That’s tomorrow?”

“Yeah, it was the only day I could schedule it for,” Tyler says. “Is that okay?”

“Actually,” Jamie replies. “I, uh. Kind of already have plans for tomorrow.”

“Wait, you do?” Tyler says. He sounds taken aback, and Jamie tries not to feel too insulted by that. There’s a long pause before Tyler continues, “What’s going on? You have a date or something?”

Jamie answers, “Yeah,” before he’s really thought it through.

“Oh. Well, that’s awesome, man!” Tyler exclaims, and Jamie can’t tell whether or not his excitement is genuine. “Amber, right?”

Jamie keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road when he nods.

On Friday, Jamie calls Jordie to ask for his advice on what to wear for a date. 

“Everything you own is terrible,” Jordie tells him. “If this guy likes you for your clothes, you are shit out of luck.”

“Thanks,” Jamie says, and hangs up. 

He does eventually decide on an outfit, no thanks to Jordie; then he has second thoughts about the date, then third thoughts, and then he leaves for the restaurant. He makes his way over to the bar area, where he and Chase have decided to meet, and spots him sitting near the entrance. The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up far enough for Jamie to immediately recognize his inked forearms.

Jamie lingers for a moment, and Chase glances over curiously, but luckily he doesn’t show any signs of recognition. Jamie takes the stool next to him.

“Chase?” he says.

Chase looks at him and grins. “You must be Jamie!”

“Yeah,” Jamie responds, giving him a small smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Chase says. He leans closer to Jamie and adds, “You’re actually hotter than I was expecting, and I’ll be honest, I was expecting you to be pretty damn hot.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Jamie says, laughing even as he feels his cheeks heating up. “That means a lot coming from someone as hot as you.”

They have a couple drinks as they talk and get to know each other a little. Chase broaches the subject of sports teams at one point, but Jamie just shrugs and says, “I don’t really follow any.”

Chase replies, “Not even the Cowboys? I don’t usually like sports that much either, but it’s hard not to get into football living in this town.”

Jamie shrugs again, and that’s that. They move on to other topics. 

The bartender comes by again just as Chase has wrapped up a story about his dog, and both he and Jamie decline more drinks. The silence afterwards hangs in the air for a moment, giving Jamie a surge of confidence.

He asks, “So, do you maybe want to come back to my place?”

Chase grins, and then nods.

As Jamie steps off the barstool, his cell phone starts vibrating insistently in his pocket. He pulls it out and checks it, just to reassure himself that nothing dire is happening, and sure enough, all he finds is a series of increasingly stupid texts from Tyler.

_Just saw another pic of henrik lundqvist looking fine af in a suit._

_Do you think if I asked he wld stand in my crease???_

Jamie reads over the messages a couple times. Tyler has also sent an eggplant emoji, which Jamie graciously decides to ignore. He sends back, _Probably not_ , and receives an instantaneous response—a frowny face emoji.

“Everything okay?” asks Chase, placing his hand on Jamie’s lower back.

Jamie starts a little at the unexpected touch, before he realizes he’s probably been standing rooted to the spot with his phone in his hand for too long.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, quickly pocketing it. “I thought it might have been some kind of emergency, but nah, it’s fine.” 

“Cool,” Chase replies.

As soon as they arrive at the house, Jamie leads Chase up to his bedroom, only slowing down so he can kiss him along the way. Eventually they make it to the bed, and Jamie spends the entire night getting intimately acquainted with Chase’s tattoos.

*

Jamie wakes up to someone hitting him on the arm. He groans as he opens his eyes, but Chase only smiles at him.

“I think you have a visitor,” he says. “You expecting someone?”

“No,” Jamie replies, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Now that he’s awake, he can hear that someone is knocking at the door. He quickly grabs his jeans from the floor and pulls them on before heading downstairs to the foyer. By the time he gets there, the knocking has stopped, and Tyler is letting himself in like he owns the place.

He gives Jamie a mock salute and says, “Hey, what are you up to?”

“Not much,” Jamie says, too caught off guard by Tyler’s presence to think of anything else to say.

“Cool, man. So how’d your date go?” Tyler asks.

“Uh,” Jamie responds eloquently.

He’s almost relieved when Chase comes down the stairs, fully dressed but in the midst of buttoning up his shirt, because it means he doesn’t have to try to think of a lie to tell Tyler.

“Sorry, Jamie, but I’ve gotta run,” Chase says, stepping forward and placing a hand on Jamie’s waist. “I had a really great time, though.”

Hyperaware of Tyler still standing there, Jamie’s first instinct is to flinch away, but he keeps his eyes on Chase and tamps that instinct down; instead, he leans in for a slow, openmouthed kiss, Chase’s beard feeling pleasantly scratchy along Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Text me?” he says, after they’ve both pulled away.

“Of course,” Chase replies.

Tyler gives Chase a little wave as he passes by, but as soon as the front door is closed, he turns on Jamie with narrowed eyes.

“That’s who your date was with?” Tyler demands.

Jamie avoids meeting Tyler’s eyes. “Yeah.” 

He focuses on taking calming breaths, even as his hands tremble at his sides. Tyler takes a step towards him.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asks. “I thought we were supposed to be friends!”

Jamie furrows his eyebrows in confusion and chances a glance at Tyler, only to find that Tyler is still staring him down.

“Wait,” Jamie says, finally getting it. “You’re mad that I didn’t tell you I’m gay?” 

“Of course I am!” Tyler bursts out. “Friends don’t keep secrets from each other. Seriously, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d be cool with it,” Jamie says slowly. 

“Well, you thought wrong,” Tyler informs him.

“If you say so,” Jamie responds, eyeing Tyler’s crossed arms and clenched fists.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Tyler says.

“What—?”

Jamie’s question is lost as Tyler reaches out to cup his face, letting one finger brush gently along Jamie’s cheek, before he leans in to press his lips to Jamie’s. By the time Jamie even registers what’s happening, Tyler has already pulled away.

“See?” he says. “Nothing to worry about with me.”

“Um, okay,” Jamie replies.

“So, now you know that I’m not gonna freak out over you being gay or anything like that.”

“Okay,” Jamie says again, since all other words seem to have left him. After taking a moment to pull himself together, he adds, “I believe you. You don’t have to try to convince me.”

“Okay. Well. I’ll see you at the rink later, yeah?” Tyler says.

“Sure,” Jamie says, and Tyler leaves, presumably forgetting his reason for coming over to Jamie’s house in the first place.

*

Later, Tyler meets Jamie out in the parking lot of the American Airlines Center. 

“Hey, we’re cool, right?” he asks, biting his lip nervously. “I was thinking about earlier, and I feel like I might have messed things up, but I really want us to be cool.”

Jamie stares at him. “Is this an apology?”

“If that’s what you want,” Tyler replies, “then yes.”

“Alright,” says Jamie, suppressing a frustrated sigh. “We’re cool.” 

“Awesome!” Tyler says.

It takes six days for the other shoe to drop.

After a win against the Hurricanes on home ice, the team heads to a local bar to celebrate. Jamie’s nursing a beer, content just to listen to the ambient noise of conversation, when Tyler slides into the seat across from him.

“What’s up, Jameson?”

Jamie looks up at Tyler and then stares at him until he breaks. It takes longer than Jamie would have expected, but after a few beats, Tyler can no longer hold a straight face as he dissolves into helpless giggles. Faced with that sight, Jamie can’t help his own smile, now tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Not a whole lot,” he tells Tyler, who has now regained composure.

“Yeah? So how’s it going with that dude?” Tyler asks.

Jamie groans. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“That bad?”

“He hasn’t texted me back,” Jamie mumbles.

“Bummer, dude!” says Tyler. “Well, there will always be other guys.”

“I guess,” Jamie concedes, shrugging. 

Tyler nods, and after a few seconds, he says, “Yeah. So. I was wondering something.” He props his elbows up on the table and leans closer to Jamie. “Have you ever had a crush on me?”

Jamie swears his heart stops beating, just for a moment. Then he actually looks at Tyler and takes in the unconcerned expression on his face, and Jamie realizes he hasn’t been made—Tyler just wants to know because that’s what straight guys always want to know. 

“No,” Jamie says, “you don’t get to ask me that.”

He stands and makes his way to the exit, not even pausing to acknowledge Tyler calling after him. The other guys can think whatever they want, if any of them are even sober enough to notice something amiss. 

Jamie manages to hail a cab without being interrupted, probably because Tyler still has to pay his tab even if he’d wanted to chase Jamie outside. As soon as Jamie gets home, he collapses onto his couch and turns on the television, flipping through channels until he finds TV Land. It’s playing an early episode of Bewitched, so at least he has that going for him right now.

Three episodes of Bewitched later, the doorbell rings. Before Jamie has a chance to decide what he wants to do about that, Tyler lets himself in. Jamie sighs, mutes the TV, and heads to the entryway, where he finds Tyler lingering by the front door, hand still clutched around the doorknob.

“What do you want?” Jamie asks tiredly.

“To explain,” Tyler says, taking a hesitant step forward. “I didn’t mean it like you think.”

“Really? What the fuck am I supposed to think? First you say you don’t want guys hitting on you,” Jamie responds, building up steam, “then you kiss me, and now you’re worried about me having a crush on you. Either you’re cool with it or you’re not. You said you were, but clearly you’re not.”

“Wait,” Tyler says, “so you do have a crush on me?”

“That’s not what I said,” Jamie replies, before quickly adding, “And not the goddamn point.”

“That’s not a ‘no,’” Tyler counters.

“Fine,” Jamie says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fine. Yes. I have a fucking crush on you. Now can you please go somewhere else while you freak out about it?”

“Look, I don’t remember saying that thing about guys hitting on me,” says Tyler, completely ignoring Jamie’s request. “But it was stupid, and I’m sorry. I probably said it ‘cause there aren’t a lot of guys I’d want hitting on me, but I’m not gonna pretend like there aren’t any. Everyone’s on a spectrum, right?”

Jamie stares at Tyler for a long moment. “Did Google tell you that?”

“Actually, yeah,” Tyler replies, shrugging. “But anyway, my point is, the real reason why I kissed you is because I wanted to, not to prove a point or whatever. And since I’m being honest, I might as well tell you that I’ve wanted to since 2012.”

“Hold on,” Jamie says, after taking a few seconds to process that information. “2012?”

“Yeah, you know, the All-Star Game?” Tyler says.

“It wasn’t the ‘where’ that I was having trouble wrapping my head around,” Jamie retorts. 

“Jamie,” says Tyler.

“Tyler,” Jamie responds.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Come on, Jamie, I’ve liked you forever. Do you wanna make out or not?”

Jamie nods faintly. This might be a dream, but if it is, he’s at least going to make sure he enjoys it before he wakes up.

When Tyler kisses him, it doesn’t feel like it’s a dream. Tyler cups his hands around the back of Jamie’s neck, tangling his fingers through Jamie’s hair, and it feels very real.

Jamie parts his lips against Tyler’s tongue, lets his mouth be pliable against Tyler’s. In response, Tyler sweeps his tongue along the inside of Jamie’s mouth, and Jamie lets out a soft moan. He runs his hands underneath Tyler’s shirt and presses his fingers down onto Tyler’s waist.

Eventually Tyler pulls away. Before Jamie can protest, though, he shoves at Jamie’s chest, taking a step forward as Jamie stumbles backward.

“Huh?” Jamie says.

“Come on,” Tyler replies, leading Jamie to the living room.

Tyler sits down on the sectional, with Jamie still standing, looking down at him, before Tyler grabs the front of Jamie’s shirt and pulls Jamie down on top of him. Jamie puts one hand on Tyler’s shoulder to steady himself, and he shifts until his knees are settled comfortably on either side of Tyler’s thighs.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” Tyler says, jerking his hips upwards and thrusting his crotch into Jamie’s.

Jamie leans forward, bringing his and Tyler’s lips together again. Tyler has one hand on Jamie’s waist, and he’s trying to get Jamie’s jeans unbuttoned with the other.

Jamie breaks the kiss to say, “Here, let me.”

He knocks Tyler’s hand out of the way and manages to shove his jeans and boxer briefs halfway down his thighs before he gives up and gets to work on Tyler’s. The angle makes it difficult, but after Tyler lifts his hips again and Jamie hoists himself up a little so he’s not sitting directly on Tyler’s lap, he manages it about as well as he managed his own.

“You’d say if I was too heavy, right?” Jamie asks.

“I’m a professional athlete, too, you know,” Tyler says, digging his fingers into Jamie’s waist. “I think I can handle it.”

“Right,” replies Jamie, breathing heavily.

Then Tyler crowds Jamie and kisses him again, just as Jamie begins rutting against Tyler’s thigh, too turned on to be embarrassed. When Tyler shifts his thigh so he can run his hand along Jamie’s cock instead, Jamie lets out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan. In response, Tyler begins working his hand faster.

Before Jamie comes, though, he grabs Tyler’s wrist and moves his hand aside. Then he grinds his pelvis onto Tyler’s cock, spreading his knees wider to get more leverage.

“Holy shit,” Tyler gasps.

Feeling Tyler’s erection against him, Jamie grunts, letting the arousal spread to his entire body, and he comes. He pauses for a second to get his breath back, and then he wraps his hand around Tyler’s cock and gets to work. It doesn’t take long for Tyler to come after that.

After a few minutes of silence save for their heavy breathing, Jamie shifts off Tyler’s lap and collapses onto the couch next to him.

“Baby,” Tyler says, shit-eating grin firmly in place, “you rocked my world.”

“Oh my god,” Jamie says.

Tyler just laughs.

*

It takes some convincing, but eventually Tyler is able to persuade Jamie to move so they can sleep in bed together, instead of on the couch.

When Jamie wakes up warm and comfortable, with Tyler using his chest as a pillow, he has to admit that it was a pretty good call on Tyler’s part. He manages to extract himself without waking Tyler up, and then he heads to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Tyler still hasn’t woken up by then, so Jamie decides to take a long shower to clean himself up.

After that, he finds Tyler sitting at the kitchen table with a piece of toast and a cup of coffee. He’s wilting a little, like he’s about to fall back asleep, and his hair is a disaster. 

“Morning,” he greets Jamie.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Jamie says, grinning in response to Tyler’s glare; he takes a seat and continues, “So, we should probably talk about some stuff.”

Tyler pauses mid-bite. “Like what?”

“Like how serious this is gonna be,” Jamie says. “What we should tell the team. That kind of thing.”

“Well, hopefully pretty serious,” Tyler says. “Especially since I already told Jordie.”

“What?” Jamie exclaims. “I mean, that first thing is awesome. I’m completely on board with that. But you told Jordie?” He pauses. “Hang on a sec.”

He runs back to his room to grab his cell phone from the nightstand. He has one unread text message.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t realize you didn’t want me to,” Tyler says, once Jamie gets back to the kitchen.

“It’s fine,” Jamie replies, even as he nervously opens the text.

_dude what happened at the bar last night and why did tyler text two eggplant emojis to me this morning_

“So?” Tyler prompts, sounding nervous himself now.

After a long pause, Jamie tells him, “You are the weirdest, least tactful person in the world.”

He sends back, _Do you really want to know_ , and Jordie responds, _Good point!!_

Jamie drops the phone back on the table and walks over to Tyler, placing a soft kiss against his lips.

“Anyhow, I’m really glad you want to be serious enough to tell my brother,” he says.

“Of course,” Tyler responds. “I wouldn’t go into this half-assed. You’re important to me, dude.”

Jamie’s phone chimes to alert him of another text from Jordie. Jamie ignores it in favor of doing more important things.


End file.
